Last Stand
by Hourai Rabbit
Summary: A story that I didn't put much thought into. It was stuck in my head for so long that I just had to put it to paper for my own peace of mind. Now, for your viewing dis/pleasure, I present a reinterpretation of the events of Soulstorm.


**Last Stand**

A foul, metallic tang drifted on the wind. The man's brow creased. This was no ordinary scent, not something that could be smelled in the same way that food or water, or even changes in the weather could be. This was an expression of instinct gained through a decade of battle.

A decade that had somehow not etched itself into the man's youthful features. Neophyte Shaltir had not aged a day since he had begun the Blood Ravens' rituals of indoctrination and gene-therapy that would one day elevate him into the ranks of the Emperor's deadliest soldiers. He would not be an angel of death for some time yet, but that did not mean there was no way in which he could serve the Chapter. There would be blood spilled this day. An ominous premonition, more than a feeling or a smell he felt on the wind, he knew that the endless regimen of patrol, drill, and contemplation would end.

His suspicions were confirmed when his vox-bead started to crackle, fouling the voice of the other who was struggling to get his attention.

"...other...you copy?"

He recognised the voice. He would recognise the clipped, harsh tones of his drill master Cyrus any day. Cyrus himself had seen to that.

"Br...ir...do...copy?" came Cyrus' voice at his ear, much more insistent this time.

Shaltir began to walk slowly in the direction that Sergeant Cyrus had taken the rest of his team not two hours ago, hoping to get a clearer signal. Of all his brothers, Shaltir had been ordered to stay behind to relay information back to the Keep. Vox contact was becoming more and more difficult and Cyrus had suspected the forces of the Ruinous Powers might be involved. Now, as a precaution, Shaltir was denied the honour of accompanying the old scout master on an important reconnaissance mission. He quickened his pace. Something was definitely wrong, he could sense it even through the vox interference.

"Damni...Shaltir...come in," Cyrus was demanding. Oh no. The old man was definitely angry now.

"Scout Shaltir, responding as ordered. The interference is getting stronger, as you predicted, Brother Sergeant."

"Yes. Enemies have crossed the first defensive line. Inform Captain Boreale that we have encountered the enemy. Ruinous Powers. Cultists massing in the southern quadrant. Now. Go!"

Shaltir did not waste his breath acknowledging the order. He knew what was expected of him and obeyed without question as he had been taught. He ran as fast as his considerable strength would allow but it would still be some time before he reached the Chapter Keep at the centre of the basin.

"Scout Shaltir to Castellum! Scout Shaltir to Castellum! Emergency! I must speak with the Captain!"

When no response came he tried again, and again, and again when that failed. He kept running towards the Keep. Slowly the landing pads for heavy armour and the Chapel Barracks came into view.

"This is Castellum. Scout Shaltir, the Captain is currently in the midst of his prayers. What is your business."

"Report from Sergeant Cyrus! Enemies have crossed the first defensive line!"

A moment of silence, then, "Acknowledged. Report to the Keep at once."

When Shaltir arrived he found the portcullis already open. The Chapter Keep was already a hive of activity. Techmarines moved back and forth blessing the transports and awakening their machine spirits while senior Battle Brothers saw to their own armour and affixed whatever oaths and seals they deemed appropriate. Shaltir rounded a corner and made his way through a throng of Chapter serfs carrying reams of parchment, entering the Reclusiam. A single figure in black power armour rose to greet him. Two sombre eyes bore into him from behind a skull-shaped mask.

"Brother Shaltir. We have been waiting for you. Come this way", he spoke quickly. The Chaplain had little use for words in such an urgent situation. Shaltir had always found this fact odd considering the fire of his sermons once battle was actually joined.

Emerging from one of the prayer cells was imposing, clean-shaven figure of Brother-Captain Indrick Boreale. The Chaplain inclined his head respectfully while Shaltir dropped quickly to one knee, then rose as the Chapter's traditions dictated. Boreale gave a curt nod. He was not a man known for his patience or subtlety.

"Commander Boreale", Shaltir began quickly, "enemy forces have crossed the first defensive line and entered our perimeter."

"Where?"

"Southern quadrant, but they were on the move. Brother-Sergeant Cyrus' team is tracking them. Current location unknown."

"The strange interference, Brother-Captain", the Chaplain cut in, answering the unspoken question. Why did Cyrus not vox in himself?

"Then there is no time to be lost. Gather all of our brothers."

Within 20 minutes the tactical sermon had begun. At the foot of the Keep, the assembled Astartes gathered to hear the parameters of their mission and to reaffirm their common purpose: to kill in the Emperor's name. Row upon row of red and bone power armour filled the courtyard and at their head stood Indrick Boreale, the man charged with bringing the Kaurava System to heel, armed with five companies of Blood Ravens and the teachings of the famed captain Angelos.

"Battle Brothers!" Boreale's voice rang out across the courtyard, "I bring you good news! Today, the enemy is at our door!"

A faint murmur ran through the assembled Blood Ravens.

"The time has come to reaffirm our sacred duty. We fight not only to subjugate this system for mankind. We fight for our honour as Blood Ravens, as Astartes, and we fight in the name of the EMPEROR!"

At the mention of His holy name, a cheer erupted from the crowd. As one they picked up a chant and the adamantium of the keep shook with their fervour, "For the Great Father and the Emperor!"

Boreale nodded, then raised his hand to quiet the assembled Astartes, "and if you must sell your lives today then sell them dearly, that you might die in glory. Remember our Brothers who have been entered into the Book of Honour and strive to meet their example. They died heroes' deaths!" he then swiped his hand through the air in a swift negating motion, "But we shall not die. I have sworn upon my honour and upon the Great Father. I have taken your lives upon my shoulders. I will preserve them. I swear that it is the enemy who shall taste death and defeat!"

Again the chant was taken up, "For the Great Father and the Emperor! Death and defeat for the enemies of Man!"

"Our brothers on the Litany of Fury await only our signal for orbital deployment in the event that the enemy should be so bold and so FOOLISH!" boomed Captain Boreale. Shaltir nodded. This was, after all, his signature style so unlike the more placid river of strength exuded by his peers, Captains Angelos and Thule. Boreale was more like a tidal wave, or a gale.

"In accordance with the Codex Astartes, we shall draw the enemy to the appointed killzones and TEAR them apart with multiple, simultaneous, and devastating defensive deep strikes!"

Shaltir knew as well as any of the Initiates present the location of the killzones. Cyrus had worked him past even his superhuman endurance to execute this defensive strategy as if it were a part of his own body.

"You have studied the plans, the data. But you shall remember it by one name. The Codex names this manoeuvre, Steel Rain! We shall descend upon the foe! We will overwhelm them! We will leave NONE alive! Though it is not normally our way, the key to this plan is you, my Brothers on the surface. You will ensure the security of the Keep, for if it is taken we will have sustained a grievous blow. The enemy is at our door now, Brothers, and I say let them come! We are Astartes! WE ARE THE EMPEROR'S FURY!"

Amidst the din of over thirty Astartes, Indrick Boreale turned to see to his own final preparations. He would be at the forefront of the counter-assault of course, but something else troubled him. Scout Shaltir had mentioned that the enemy forces massing in the south were mostly cultists, but there was not a single Blood Raven who believed such an offensive at face value. His concern was that the true masters behind the invasion of Kaurava II had yet to play their hand...

* * *

With their helmets' enhanced Preysight settings, the traitors caught the approach of the Astartes transports long before they had reached the front lines. Even without the infrared vision of Preysight, they would certainly have heard the lumbering behemoths long before they came into visual range. Firaeveus Carron's lips curled into a sneer.

"Look", he growled with with barely concealed contempt, "Rhinos! RHINOS! Is this the limit of Imperial artifice? Of Imperial mettle? Our enemies hide in metal boxes, the cowards! THE FOOLS!"

Guttural laughter echoed across the vox from ambush positions all across the Blood Ravens' southern defensive line.

"It is a wonder they think themselves safe from us. We should take away their metal boxes. Alpha Legion, prepare to attack!"


End file.
